


Baby on Board

by Futago (Jumelles_Futago)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Just some cuteness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-23 03:51:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3753445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jumelles_Futago/pseuds/Futago
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hostile alien race? Check<br/>The one thing that they'll turn a blind eye to and leave you the speck alone? Uh, about that...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby on Board

**Author's Note:**

> This popped into my head one day whilst craving some Rodimus/Minimus, but can be read as just friends if you want, or pre-relationship

.:: Rodimus, _please_. I must insist that this– ::.

.:: Shh, don't worry. This is gonna work ::.

Oh, he was certain that it would. The Gu-Nahge were a familial people, and despite the best efforts of their 4 million year war, the alien race was extremely lenient in the face of offspring. Didn't matter what weapons or cargo you were carrying, flash a sparkling and you had safe passage with the possibility of a fleet escort even. No questions asked. Ever.

However, running into any offense-capable Gu-Nahge ship without a little progeny onboard meant certain confrontation where only one got to walk away alive. They had zero tolerance for any outsider ships equipped with weapons. There was a list of reasons 'why' in their intergalactic law. There was an _Archive_ of Sub-clauses attached to Cybertronians alone.

So when the  _Lost Light_ happened to intercept a homebound, War-Class Gu-Nahge ship off their rear-port, they had to find some sparklings and find them quick– Blaster had bought them at least a breem when he pinged them to power down their charging weapons. Unfortunately, there were no sparklings, or mechs carring newsparks onboard at this time, so they had to get creative. With Tailgate still recovering, Rewind deceased, and Swerve's habit to chatter when nervous, Rodimus' optics had landed on Ultra Magnus with a gleam that made a chill of unsettling dread slide down the Du— _Former _Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord's backstruts.__

.:: Strip or die ::. he had smiled his ultimatum, blessedly on a private channel.

Half a breem left and Ultra Magnus felt an odd sensation of wanting to die.

Half a breem left and Minimus Ambus felt extremely exposed, standing in a pile of blue and green armor pieces.

5 asteroseconds to go and Minimus Ambus, in his irreducible glory, sat ram-rod still in Rodimus' lap, hoping against hope that the obscenely flashy orange and red of his Captain's plating would make him invisible for the whole ordeal. Fingers quickly brushed the side of his face, taking with them their prize before he even had a chance to react– .:: Annnd the finishing touch! ::.

.:: Rodimus!– ::.

"Goo-Nag-nag– hi. Fancy meeting you guys all the way out here, huh?" Rodimus falsely beamed at the floating projection of the organic who ignored the horrendous mispronunciation. Minimus would have reprimanded the instigative behavior– if he was in the Magnus armor– if he wasn't sitting here while Rodimus stached his house symbol in a subspace. Minimus would, if he were feeling like he had any kind of authoritative power, but he didn't. He felt helpless.

" _Cybertronian_ , what acceptable reason do you give to enact this cease fire." the presumably Captain of the ship demanded.

The speedster practically radiated his pout .:: Rude, no 'hello' back? ::.

"We carry injured, elderly, and the young. Surely you wouldn't _dream_  of killing something as _innocent_  as this little guy, right?" and yellow servos curved around Minimus' sides to lift him up off his lap, bringing the Gu-Nahge's gaze to the frozen 'child.' He stood petrified on Rodimus' thighs, although he was unsure if it was his own strength or the servos still grasping him that really kept him upright. Every thread in his processor was stuck on the humiliation of it all that he couldn't voice, his limbs creaking in protest to their stiff lock-up as he stared, optics wide, at the creature; a look best described as pure, silent horror.

.:: _Mags_ , supposed to be acting like a _sparkling_ , remember? ::.

No, no, he couldn't do this! Sparklings cried– whined– babbled in _binary_! Minimus Ambus– _Ultra Magnus_ , a legendary figure throughout the history of their race couldn't be seen acting so unprofessionally! He'd thought smiling was bad?! There would be no end to the mockery! No way to salvage Ultra Magnus' good name!

.:: Magnus, come on! Fate of the whole ship depends on you right now, and we need you to act like a spoiled brat ::.

But–

"I find myself questioning your truth on the matter,  _Cybertronian_." the Gu-Nahge spat, glaring critically at the pretending Load-bearer. "We have seen your kind's offspring before and they do no behave so...oddly."

Rodimus scooped Minimus tightly to his chest, whether appalled for his Second or just flabbergasted at being called a liar, Minimus Ambus was certain it was a bit of both. "How dare you offend such a  _innocent spark_! He's probably just petrified of your _face_!" he shouted, regardless of the tense, we're-so-fragged, air that had built up in the helm.

.::  _Minimus Ambus_ , I _order_ you to behave like a baby right this instant! ::.

The Gu-Nahge looked angry enough to explode, and probably would have commanded their ship be obliterated if a loud keen didn't cut off it's opening mouths.

Everyone present in the room turned to the bundle clasped to Rodimus' chasis in varying degrees of shock and amusement that Minimus tried his hardest to ignore. _He was doing this for their mission, their quest, and minusculely because Rodimus had made it an order._ His wailing was mostly genuine anyway. He felt like he was trapped, stripped to his protoform and displayed to the entire universe without his beloved house symbol– his spark was practically straining in anguish that his usually sound stoicism couldn't deny as being a most proper response at this moment in time. And as unbecoming as it was for him to admit, a bubble of fluid even managed to collect in the bottom lids of his optics which he fought to keep from spilling down his cheeks.

It was a long moment of astonishment before Rodimus seemed to snap out of the collective ' _Holly Primus, Ultra Magnus was crying'_ processor hick-up, to wrap up the chat, "See? Look at that, you made him cry, you bully!" he scolded the horror-stricken Gu-Nahge, turning Minimus around and almost completely encasing him in his arms.

Minimus would never outwardly acknowledge how comforting the embrace made him feel– that would be very un-Ultra Magnus-y, he was sure... But being as it were that he was not currently in the Magnus armor, down to his base frame before he was just wires, tubes and articulated rods and ball joints– he dug deeper into the comforting plating, drawing his limbs up to try and hide as much of himself as he could behind those arms. The rest of the interaction was lost under the thrum and vibration of Rodimus' engine turning over, down shifting to deep tones easily seeping into his frame. It filled his audials and surprisingly lulled his frenzied spark with its hum that quickly pulled his conscious under, taking him far away.

 

"Magnus."

It wasn't so much the gentle call than the realization that those soothing lower frequencies were absent that made him stir– which he was surprised to feel a little...upset about it. How odd.

He lifted his head from the plating he'd tried to burrow in, the arms that cradled him following his movements as he slowly pulled away, and he noticed, fuzzily, that they were no longer in the helm. Wherever he was was bright, so bright in fact, he was just going to dig back into that warm, not vibrating but still comforting darkness he'd been in a moment ago.

"Dazed and confused like a proper sparkling." someone chuckled gruffly nearby but his groggy processor didn't feel like keying the frequency. It caused an insistent thread to spool in his bus that demanded him to pay more attention but... uhhhggg....no, he was going to ignore it for now, twisting into the plating as if he could get away from it.

"Is that surprising?" this voice reverberated in his audial and– oh, he knew this one without needing a query..... which made more threads pop up with the recognition. They were more insistent then the first, practically tagged with alarm bell urgency that kept him from drifting off with their abrasive pings, and he relented when the prospect of recharging was thwarted every time he tried.

The second attempt to sit up straight and focus was more successful, even with a slight bit of reluctance on his part. He found more of his processing functions came online when he put more distance between himself and that warm, _yellow_ , plating.

"That you apparently have innate parenting skills?– Yes." the first voice spoke again, and he visually identified the owner as their Chief Medical Officer, the feed overblown but there was no mistaking that hardened face that could rival his own, giving its full attention to his reemerged frame. "You're in Medbay. Armor's over there waiting for you to come around."

Minimus' peering gaze must have asked "Where?" for him because his vocalizer sure didn't. It was oddly choosing to remain offline, and he tried to consciously start it– something he found he had to do for more than just that one, a pool of notifications on stalled systems popping up. Why was this so hard... Was waking-up always so hard? It shouldn't be so hard...

There was a light tap on his arm he unhurriedly turned to look at that lacked his usual efficiency and finesse. More like his neck cables gave up before thinking to catch his falling head, flopping him over to see what it was. The familiarity of the object made his spark sing happily, and his lethargic limbs move clumsily to take it from Rodimus' offering palm. The House of Ambus Insignia rested heavily in his small servos, a weight that registered with purpose, and duty, and honor, and ... stuff he didn't care about right now. So he gazed at it from ever drooping lids, relieved to have it back in his possession but with no gumption to don all it entailed right now.

After a moment of Captain and CMO staring at the Second in Command dwarfed in the Captain's hold, all in a huddle to the side of the Medbay with First Aid's incoherent voice drifting from somewhere deeper back, the Captain nudged the seemingly entranced little bundle, "You ok there Magnus?"

Minimus weakly hummed in response, letting the firm rubbing of Rodimus' questioning servo on his arm sway him. He felt fine, more comfortable now that he was, thankfully, no longer in the public eye– and tired. Unfoundedly tired; he didn't understand how he could be, but his optics were closed by the time he started leaning back into Rodimus' chasis, tucking his insignia close to himself.

"Well I'll be, Ultra Magnus: Achilles' Healstrut is a little T-L-C." Ratchet barked, he knew in good humor, as he flopped back into Rodimus's chest that rumbled a little bit in laughter. He had half a mind to be embarrassed— or scolding, but as each system slowed or shut down under active recharge parameters, he just thought, _maybe later_.

**Author's Note:**

> This may turn into a series, but I'm such a slow writer that might be forever ;;


End file.
